When first my heart murmured in infant rest,
a sigh then broke the toddling beats and veins;
and vessels blue did rush in gasps to tie anew
the reins, my breast, of soft, untried sinew.

Well, Clotho knew that she knit me undone:
one thread slipped out; it fell unseen and snagged.
Slender, long, she wrought it strong; the knot
I’d dragged unspun for years, until it caught

some place or edge. A face. A name. It skips
sometimes, a stone that dips in cresting waves
of pain, but cannot fly off free or sink in peace away.
I trip, a slave in chains; the pull begins to fray

my strength. I pray to know I’ll find the end
and bind a better heart, escape your maze.
Yet without the nerve myself to swing the sword,
I’ll mend my days ‘til fate cuts the cord.

11/03/2008

Posted on 11/04/2008
Copyright © 2025 Laurie Duncan